Written for Marigold’s Challenge 36. The challenge this time was to write about any third anniversary, and my elements were to include stale bread, a cheery fire, and a gift for a non-hobbit member of the Fellowship.

Betas: Marigold and Llinos

The Birthday – Minas Tirith

22 September, 2 F.A.

Aragorn sat in the study of his private apartment deep within his House. The day outside was cool for early autumn and coming on the heels of a long hot summer it felt almost frigid. Arwen, not being used to windows and enclosed rooms, had the glass doors flung open to let the fresh breeze flow into the apartment, filling the rooms with the fragrance of hardy plumbago and montbretia from the garden. A small fire glowed happily in the hearth of the study, taking the bite off the crisp air and warming the wooden floor in a wide half-circle around the hearth. Aragorn’s desk stood just in front of the hearth and he sat there comfortably as he prepared to open his personal correspondence.

There were many letters and parcels ready for his enjoyment stacked upon the wide oak desk. They were from various friends and acquaintances from all corners of Middle-earth. He shuffled through the letters and put them in order of those he would open first to last. The two small parcels, from Ithilien and Rivendell, he placed before the letters and placed these on the right side of the desk for opening later.

The one large package addressed from his dear friends in the Shire he pulled toward him. Sam, Merry and Pippin were all involved in this package by the writing on the parchment wrapping, and he was terribly curious about what it might contain. Though it had arrived a week ago, he knew the importance of this date and he guessed the purpose of the package. It had taken much effort of will not to open the package immediately upon receipt but he knew the hobbits meant for it to be opened today and no sooner.

From the top right-hand drawer of the desk he took out a small knife and cut the string that was tied about the package. He removed the parchment with care and revealed a large box made of alder stained to a deep red finish and polished with varnish. The box was newly crafted for it bore no scratches or nicks on its proud surface and the simple brass latch was equally unscarred.

Aragorn unfastened the latch and opened the lid. Inside, the box was padded and lined with a scarlet-colored silk cloth on all sides. The box was deep and there was a bottle standing in one corner and letters sitting atop other objects which were, for the moment, unseen. A smile lit upon the king’s lips as he recognized on the topmost letter the curling, light-handed script of his smallest knight. He pulled all the letters out and set them aside, then pulled out the glass bottle and three bundles wrapped in soft cloth. One bundle was large and fatly round, and the other two were square and thin.

He closed the box and put that to one side then arranged the bundles in a line before him. He picked up the letters and turned them over to look at the seals. As he expected, all the seals were the same but none of them were the ones he had come to expect. Rather than the proud stag of the Brandybucks, or the drawn bow and arrow ennobled over the rolling hills of Tookland, or the bold and elegant ‘B’ of the Bagginses, the seal was a ‘G’ rune cunningly disguised as a closed rosebud on a long stem, two small leaves attached to branches on the right side of the stem to form the arms of the rune. Aragorn smiled again and chuckled knowingly. So Sam had finally succumbed to his friends and designed his own seal. Very appropriate, Aragorn thought, for the gentle and unassuming gardener.

The letters were in order of Pippin’s first, then Merry’s, and lastly Sam’s. Aragorn broke the seal on Pippin’s letter and unfolded it, expecting something short and sweet. Instead, he was surprised to find a rather long correspondence. He wondered briefly how long it had taken Pippin to write so much and how much prodding it had taken from his friends to get it finished. For while Pippin had a penchant for lightning quick thoughts and speech, he often became frustrated with the rather slow and drawn out process of letter-writing. Aragorn sympathized with the young Took as he began to read.

8 Afterlithe, 1424 SR

Dearest Strider,

I am writing to you from Bag End, as are the rest of us. Sam will explain everything in fuller detail, but the short of it, if you don’t want to bother with so many words, is that Sam has decided to do things properly for Frodo’s birthday this year. So we are sending you this box and the items in it in honor of the Day. We are sending it as soon as we can ride out to Bree and we can only hope that it will reach you on time.

The box is my gift to you as I crafted it myself. Yes, my friends trusted me near sharp and dangerous objects, and no one lost any limbs or fingers, thank you very much. It’s quite lovely, don’t you think? Now pick your jaw up off the ground before you trip over it. I don’t want Merry saying that I managed to maim someone after all.  

In all seriousness I do hope that you can find some use for it as it took me quite a long time to make. If only for Merry’s sake, you should use it for it will make him feel better about his hands. He blames me for their current condition but I specifically told him not to go sticking his hands into the tin labeled ‘biscuits’. Can I help it if that was the only thing I could find to mix the wood dye in? So please do find something to do with it. Perhaps you can put that pretty little crown of yours in here for safekeeping. (And don’t worry about Merry’s hands too much. Sam says a little bit of turpentine will have them back to their natural color in no time.)

In addition to the box, and because I couldn’t participate in the gifts that Merry and Sam are sending you, they have also put me in charge of selecting samples of the party fare that we are planning to prepare for the Day.

Rose baked the bread, though she was rather hesitant about it. I assured her that by wrapping it up tightly enough and putting it into the box, which should keep air out, the bread should keep fresh until it gets to you. However, she wants me to tell you that in case it has gone stale, you could always make croutons with it or a nice bread soup. You can also use dried bread for soaking up fat drippings while cooking meat, or you can use a slice of stale bread to keep cake from drying out by covering the opened end of the cake with the bread. You can thread a knife with dry bread before cutting into an onion; this supposedly absorbs the acid from the onion and keeps you from crying so much. I do hope you can eat the bread though as it is very delicious.

I have also enclosed a bottle of the Gaffer’s homebrew, which thankfully only gets better with age. You and Arwen should find it quite enjoyable though I wouldn’t recommend drinking it on an empty stomach. You don’t have a hobbit’s constitution after all and you likely have grown used to the lighter beer that you have in Gondor. I recommend having it with a simple meal of roast beef and slices of cheese and bread, but really it goes well with just about anything.

I hope that you and Arwen are well. I understand about being uneasy having to wear so much frippery to court. You must look quite ridiculous in it from the way you described it but if that is what is expected of you, then you must go through with it. Of course, you are the king and you could simplify the dress at court if you so wish, or so I would assume. Certainly hobbits would never go in for so much unnecessary clothing and ornaments and scruffs. Very impractical by all accounts. According to Faramir’s letter, the ladies quite enjoy the look of your legs in the stockings, so I would keep those if I were you, unless Arwen is the jealous type. Being as she waited for you for ever so long, I wouldn’t think that she would be, but then you never can tell with lasses. Besides, if Legolas can wear tights without feeling self-conscious about it then you certainly can.

Things here in the Shire are as prosperous and peaceful as they have ever been. But for the youth of the trees you would never guess that only four years ago this was all torn asunder. The children have already forgotten, which is as it should be, and almost everyone else has forgotten the hardness of that time but for a few for whom it was especially hard.

I have finally told Diamond nearly everything of the Quest and you were right – she doesn’t think any less of me for having killed in battle. It could be largely due to her age as she is still quite young but she assures me that she does fully understand the role I had to play. I couldn’t tell her about the Palantír though and rather had to skim over that part of it as it is still difficult for me to speak of, but I think Merry may have told her something of it for she came to me the next day and simply held me for the longest time.

Our courtship has not been without its troubles, what with her living so far away, but every time I get impatient with it I just remind myself of you and Arwen. If you could be patient all those years, decades even, then I should be able to wait another five or six years. All things considered, we really are quite content and happy with each other and we both look forward to the day that we can be wed. She is very eager to meet you, and Legolas and Gimli and Faramir, and everyone else. She’s not too keen on leaving the Shire though, so it will perhaps have to wait for when you come north. Merry and I were planning to come to Rohan and Gondor next year but that will likely be delayed. Merry will explain more about that in his letter.

My thoughts are often with you and I miss you all terribly. Say hallo to Arwen and Legolas and Gimli and Faramir and Beregond and Bergil for me.

Until next we meet,
Yours truly,
Pippin

Aragorn put the letter aside and reached for the fat, round bundle that must surely be the bread. He unwrapped the soft terrycloth and peered at the bread uncertainly. He sniffed it and poked at it. There were no signs of mold but the loaf was decidedly hard and stale. He shook his head fondly; only Pippin would think that a loaf of bread could survive a two-month journey without growing stale. He covered the bread again and put it next to the box. He wondered if he could convince his wife to cook roast beef for tonight’s dinner; they could use the bread to soak up the fat drippings and get rid of the loaf that way.

He considered the bottle of ale curiously. Sam had often boasted of his father’s infamous ale during the hobbits’ stay in Minas Tirith and Aragorn was eager to taste the brew for himself.

His gaze skimmed over the remaining two bundles as he reached for Merry’s letter and opened it.

8 Afterlithe, 1424 SR

Dear Strider,

I trust that this letter finds you and Arwen well, and that you have satisfactorily resolved the problem with the trading merchants of which you spoke in your last letter. I hope that no other problems have crept up to replace the old ones, but knowing the nature of ruling just a small little slice of land as we have in Buckland, I am sure that there is no small amount of conflicts to keep you busy from sun up to sun down. For the Ranger who once saw four lost and terrified hobbits through the wilds to Rivendell, such simple matters should be easy enough to resolve and I do not doubt that you will judge fairly. Just remember, every time you become impatient with the politics of it all, do what my father does – dream up ways to spend all that money at your disposal. They may only just be dreams, and my Uncle Mac constantly squashes them, but they do help my father ever so much. Or think of food. That is much more satisfying by all accounts and there is never any end of it in times such as these.

I am sure that you are wondering as to the nature of this correspondence and the purpose of the gifts. If this reaches you on time, you will undoubtedly realize that it is (or near to) Frodo’s and Bilbo’s birthday. I will leave Sam to explain everything fully but for now, know that we are doing things properly this year as we have not done the past two years. According to the Rules, since you are unable to attend the Party even if you should wish to (I know how busy you are and it is a long journey) we are mandated to send you a token invitation with a small sample of the party fare. Pippin has been put in charge of that, I’m afraid. I am very sorry for the bread but you know how Pippin can be when he gets his mind stuck on something. I have included the receipt at the end of this letter so that you can make your own loaf.* You really should know what it is supposed to taste like, as it is quite delicious, especially when made by our Rose. The ale at least will keep, though I recommend you do not drink it on an empty stomach, unless you plan to spend the following day locked in the privy.

We have also included presents, for we are no twelve-mile cousins. Mine is wrapped in the yellow cloth, which Estella wove herself. She hopes that it is suitable for you and that you or Arwen may find some use for it. If not, it will at least make a sturdy rag. The gift is a portrait of my family, painted this past Yule at Brandy Hall when Peri was ten months old. My lovely wife Estella is wearing the dress her mother and aunts made for our wedding, and I am wearing one of my more formal suits because Estella insisted the portrait wouldn’t look right otherwise.

Aragorn picked up the smaller of the two remaining bundles. It was covered in a soft yellow cloth, the weave of which was tight and expert. He unfolded the cloth and found that it was quite larger than he expected. Merry had double wrapped the portrait and the cloth when unwound was about the length and width of his forearm. He decided he would give all three cloths to Arwen, and she would best decide how the material should be used.

He turned over the framed portrait and felt a swell of pride, joy and nostalgia when he saw Merry sitting beside his wife and child. The artist had captured Merry well. The hobbit looked the same as Aragorn remembered, except that his brown hair was neatly trimmed and he was more at ease with himself. He looked magnificent in his emerald suit, a promising glimpse of the Master he would one day become.

His wife Estella was lovely indeed, with a round face and a cheery smile. Her chestnut curls looked rather unruly in the portrait but that only added to her appeal. In her eyes Aragorn could see much warmth and humor reflected from her smile, but he also detected a deep strength and wisdom born of hardship and trial. The wedding dress she wore was simple and delicate in cut but the color was a bold red that complimented her fair features. In her arms, dressed in a simple baby’s gown of white silk, was a small hobbit baby with a fair face and big brown eyes. He had a thin layer of chestnut hair atop his pointed head and his nose was rounded at the end like his father’s. They looked to be a very happy family indeed and Merry looked at his little family with such adoration that it nearly poured off the canvas.

When Aragorn finished examining the portrait, he returned to the letter.

I can hardly believe how the years go by. By the time you receive this letter it will be nearly three years since Frodo and Bilbo sailed over the Sea. Time is a funny thing. It seemed to stand still after the Sailing and that winter was the longest and bleakest in my memory, but now the years pass so quickly as to be nearly dizzying. I still wake up some mornings and find myself surprised to have a wife in my arms and a bairn in the cradle.

As you may recall, when last I wrote, it was Peridoc’s first birthday. There was more news but it was not appropriate at the time to announce it. I will do so now: Estella and I are expecting our second child sometime in late summer. She is very sore with me about this. Being so largely pregnant during the summer is not the most pleasant thing according to her (and every other lass who has an opinion on the matter, which seems to be all of them) but she is excited and making plans for expanding the nursery in our little house in Crickhollow. Mother and Father are naturally wanting us to move back into the Hall but I do not yet feel ready for that and rather think we will remain at Crickhollow for another year, unless Estella should wish to move into the Hall. Undoubtedly it will be easier for her and our nursemaid that way. I will have to consider it.

By the time you are reading this, our child will have been born. Should it be a son (as the healer believes it will be) then we will name him Théodoc, in honor of my departed King. If it is a maid, we will name her Sollya, for the bluebell vine that Estella loves so much. She has even had some planted at Crickhollow against the sides of the house and it blooms most wonderfully in the summer and early autumn. I will be sure to write to you as soon as the birth occurs and inform you of the happy news.

Pippin and I have been planning a journey to Rohan and Gondor next year but now I think we shall delay it another year. What with Estella and the children and needing to decide if we will remain at the house or return to the Hall, I am loathe to leave my family for so long until matters are more settled. As the time nears we will send more word of our plans. Whatever happens, we will at least want to come before Pippin weds, and though that is still some years away, it will be here far too soon.

You will be amazed, Strider, to see how Pippin grows and matures every day. It began in Gondor and while he had a bit of a rough patch upon our return to the Shire, as you may recall, he has settled into himself and is quite the young gentlehobbit. Whereas before hardly anyone could imagine this wily Took as the next Took and Thain, they all now say that he will be counted among the best and greatest when his time comes. I do not doubt it, even if he does. Diamond has had a steadying influence on him, and they adore each other beyond measure already. He will make her a good husband and she will be a marvelous wife and Lady.

Sam is also doing well. I know that he will not say much of himself but be assured that he is happy and whole, as Frodo had wished. Rose takes exceptional care of him, and his children bring a light to him that just glows out of him like sunshine. There is a constant yearning for Frodo, as there is with all of us, but he is at peace most of the time.

You are ever in my thoughts and I often wonder what you are doing or remember our fonder and quieter moments on the Quest, especially on nights when sleep eludes me. I have not suffered any of the Dreams for some time now. Neither have Pippin nor Sam, but we all keep athelas growing in our gardens, just in case.

If this package finds you on time, be sure to raise a glass in toast to Frodo and Bilbo on the Day at the twenty-second hour. We will be doing the same, as it was Frodo’s custom to toast to Bilbo’s health at that hour.

Your devoted friend and companion,
Merry

The receipt for Round Bread followed the letter, as promised.

Aragorn placed that letter atop of Pippin’s and studied the portrait again for a time. He guessed that Sam’s gift was also a portrait by its similar size and shape but he would wait to open the last bundle. He took up Sam’s letter instead and opened it. Inside was a small invitation card announcing the Birthday Party. The script was not recognizable and Aragorn knew that the hobbits would have hired a professional calligrapher to draw the invitations.

The invitation was on white silky parchment and was embossed with a border of flowers and leaves. The script was written in a flowing, delicate golden ink.

King Elessar Telcontar and Queen Arwen Undómiel
are Cordially Invited
to a Party of Special Significance
in Honor of
Frodo Baggins and Bilbo Baggins
on
Mersday, 22 Halimath, 1424 SR
At
Bag End, Under the Hill, Hobbiton,
Westfarthing, The Shire
Starting at
Twelve Noon
and Ending at
Close of Day

The letter itself was on the same common yellow parchment as the other letters, and Sam’s slow and round script covered it from top to bottom.

10 Afterlithe, 1424 SR

Dear Strider,

How are things in Gondor? Did you ever figure out that puzzle box Gimli’s folk sent you? We have solved ours and we each found a small opal inside. Mr. Merry and I have had ours fitted into pendants for our wives. Mr. Pippin will be giving his to Miss Diamond as soon as they can court officially next year. He’s going to have it fitted into a bracelet for her, as she likes those more than necklaces since they don’t get in the way so much when she dances.

How is your garden? Are you still having a problem with the slugs in your lettuce patch? If you are, you could use a wood board to collect them up. Just lie it on the ground and in the morning, detach any slugs that have latched onto its underside. This won’t get them all but it’ll reduce their number a good deal. You can also keep a three-foot perimeter of fallow earth about the garden. They won’t think to cross it if they aren’t already in the garden. Something my Gaffer discovered many years back was that they like beer, so keep a low pan in the garden with just enough beer in it to coat the bottom. That’ll get the slugs and kill them for you too. If the garden is raised, you could put a copper border around the outside of it to keep the slugs out once you’ve rid the garden of them. I’m sure the gardeners in Gondor would’ve told you the same by now, but I thought I’d mention it just in case.

I hope this letter finds you and Lady Arwen well, and that it reaches you on time. I’m sure Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin have said as I’ll be explaining things to you about Mr. Frodo’s birthday this year, but there isn’t much to be saying really. As you may have known, it’s been some years since we really had a party for Mr. Frodo’s birthday. The year we left on the Quest, we were all so terrified and sneaking around Mr. Frodo about the Conspiracy and all, that we couldn’t really enjoy it none. That and Bag End being nearly empty with everything carted off to Crickhollow, it just weren’t a proper party at all, though Mr. Frodo tried his hardest to make it so. The year after that we were in Rivendell and just resting from the return journey home. The year after that, it was just a small affair, just us Travellers and my Rose, for Mr. Frodo weren’t really up to crowds and company and parties by that point.  

Mr. Frodo didn’t have a party at all his last year with us, being as we were in the Woody End on the Day meeting up with Mr. Bilbo afore we headed for the Havens. I guess I don’t really have to explain much what happened the year after that. Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin did come over and all but none of us were much in the mood for a party, it being the first Birthday without Mr. Frodo. Indeed, a whole year of firsts without him had finally come to a close and it weren’t a very happy day, all things told. Last year was about the same to start, though it weren’t quite so hard to get through and even ended up being a bit of fun once Rose and Estella come back from town with the children.

So this year’s Birthday will make it the third one without Mr. Frodo, and seven years since we last had a real party worthy of being called a party. Last month it occurred to me as Mr. Frodo wouldn’t want us to be moping around on his Birthday, so this year we’ll be doing things proper-like. We’ll be having a Party on the Day and we’ll be inviting everyone as meant something special to Mr. Frodo. All the Conspirators will be visiting, and Mr. Folco also, so Bag End will be bursting with visitors again just like back in old Mr. Bilbo’s days. As for the Party itself, my family will be invited of course and all the Cottons too, being as they helped Mr. Frodo so much those last couple of years. There’s all sorts of things in the mathom room for gifts. We were going to divvy these out to the Bagginses, Brandybucks and Tooks after we acquired Bag End, but the families insisted that we keep them for our own. So instead, Rose and I decided to give them out as gifts at the Party. Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin agreed to help me with this, as they’d know better than me what items should go to who, most especially the more valuable and sentimental items. It’s only proper that these be returned to Mr. Frodo’s closest kin. Normally, we wouldn’t be sending out token invitations until the week before the Day but being as this has to travel so far we thought we’d send it earlier rather than later.

In preparation for having so many guests, Rosie’s decided once and for all to reconvert those two large wardrobes of Mr. Bilbo’s back into proper bedrooms, and we’ll be giving out his clothes and suits to those as need or want them. It’s something as she’s been wanting to do for a while now but I wasn’t too keen on making changes to Bag End as it seemed disrespectful somehow. But Rose pointed out as we’re in charge now and besides we could always use the extra room. Given what all Mr. Frodo said afore he left about our future children, I had to agree as she had a point. So we’ll be starting that in a week’s time. Now she’s saying once the mathom room gets cleared out we could use that room too for its proper use. I doubt we’ll be running out of mathoms any time soon though as we’ll always be getting more than what we give away, but she’s hopeful. So long as she doesn’t set her sights on the library or the study, I suppose it won’t hurt none to let her have her way.

So that’s how things stand at the moment. We’ll be sure to send you an account of the Party when all is said and done. Enjoy the party fare and the box that Mr. Pippin sent you.

As you’ve probably guessed already my gift to you is a portrait of my family that we sat for at Yule. My fair Rose is holding little Frodo. He’s six months old there and even though he’s smiling in the portrait he was really a bit impatient about having to sit still for so long. I have fair Elanor in my lap. She’s two and eight months here and just the prettiest maid you ever have seen. She’s as clever and sweet as can be too. Also in the portrait is my Gaffer. He’s standing just behind me. He weren’t too pleased about standing for a family portrait that no one in the family would be getting – said it weren’t proper – but I explained to him as you’re our best friend and how you saw us through the War and saved me and Mr. Frodo any number of times and that you are the King and all, so he figured he’d make an exception this one time. If you could maybe send him a short letter – and by short I mean a couple of sentences only – thanking him for it, that would go a long way.

There’s also a drawing of Mr. Frodo with his parents, Primula and Drogo, that Mistress Esmeralda found when she was digging through some of the mathom closets at Brandy Hall last week. She sent it over with Mr. Merry. We’ve had it copied for each of us and for all the Fellowship, but we’re sending you the original. Mistress Esmeralda figured as Mr. Frodo was about nine or so when the drawing was done, and it was likely done during a Spring or Mid-Year festival from the casual dress of their clothes and by the fact it were done outside against the green. It were a right surprise when Mr. Merry brought that drawing out. Bless the Lady for having found it and it’s one of my most treasured possessions now, which you’ll understand why as soon as you see it.

I hope this reaches you on time. If it’s late, I’ll hope you’ll forgive us, given the distance and all. I hope that you and Lady Arwen have a wonderful Yule.

With best regards,
Sam

Aragorn put Sam’s letter with the others and looked at the last remaining bundle for some time before reaching for it. The cloth that covered this bundle was a soft cotton dyed to a gentle blue. Sam had not mentioned if Rose had spun it herself but Aragorn would be sure to comment on its fine quality when he sent his reply. He felt the cloth longer than he should, for some reason hesitant to uncover the treasures hidden inside. When at last he pulled the folds back, his hands were trembling slightly.

He could see only one framed portrait, which was facing downwards into the center of the cloth to protect it from accidental exposure to the elements. Aragorn lifted the portrait and underneath it was a single piece of parchment, also facing downward. He sat transfixed by the parchment but was finally able to turn his attention to the portrait that he still gripped in his hand.

He turned it over and Sam’s smiling carefree face beamed up at him. Aragorn again swelled with pride and joy to see his friend, who was so clearly happy and fulfilled. The artist had captured Sam’s self-assuredness with stunning accuracy but still evident was the gentle and unassuming warmth of the humble gardener. Behind him stood an old weathered hobbit of dark brown skin and grey hair. He wasn’t smiling much but there was a gleam of pride in his eyes as he looked down at his son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren.

Next to Sam was a comely hobbit lass with long caramel-colored hair and soft brown eyes. She had a sweet pleasantness about her but Aragorn also sensed a toughness and no small amount of straightforwardness. He had to laugh as he imagined this sweet no-nonsense lass going head to head with Sam over the issue of the wardrobes. That was one argument Aragorn was glad he had not been present to witness.

In her lap was a small brown-skinned hobbit baby with large brown eyes. The baby was smiling happily and Aragorn had to remind himself that the artist had embellished a little in that regard. Though it was difficult to tell at such an early age, the lad looked to be a fair copy of his father. Had the artist seen the baby smile, or had he simply copied Sam’s smile in smaller proportion? 

On Sam’s lap was a strikingly lovely toddler with long golden hair that curled about her face and soft brown eyes that mirrored a soul far older than her years. Elanor. Frodo had thought of the name and Aragorn could not think of a more appropriate person in all of Middle-earth to bear it. Already she had a subtle elegance that recalled the elves to his mind. Only her somewhat mischievous grin showed her to be a hobbit, and a very influential one she would be.

Sam had made no mention of the clothing they wore in his letter, but all was of expert make except for the Gaffer’s simple homespun shirt. Doubtless, they had dressed up for the portrait, for Aragorn could not imagine Sam wearing such fine clothing on a regular basis. He knew firsthand how uncomfortable such frippery, as Pippin had called it, was to wear for someone unaccustomed to its constrictive nature.

Aragorn studied the portrait a little longer before placing it next to Merry’s. Now there was only the yellowed parchment lying upon the cloth. The parchment was bent and wrinkled along one corner and there were many bite marks where rats and other vermin had nibbled at the edges over the long years. A small inscription was scrawled in a loose and curling hand in the bottom right corner but there was a water stain there and all that Aragorn could make out were the initials M.B. Wherever this drawing had been stored, it had not been protected well.

Aragorn turned the parchment over and instantly felt tears spring to his eyes. An innocent young family drawn in charcoal looked back at him and at its center was Frodo. The young hobbit child that the artist had captured had never known grief, or anger, or guilt, or fear, or loneliness, or despair, or hunger, or exhaustion, or hopelessness, or madness, or a burden too great for his slim shoulders to carry. He stood easily between his mother, a very pretty lass with bright eyes, and his father, a prim but kind-looking fellow. They both had one arm draped over Frodo’s shoulders, so that he was hugged and secure on either side, and the smiles on their faces were as pure and joyful and innocent as any Aragorn had ever seen. This was Frodo at his very core, the one Aragorn had never met but had heard so many stories about, the one that Sam had glimpsed for the briefest of moments after the destruction of the Ring, the one that was, with hope, restored in Tol Eressëa.

When Arwen found Aragorn minutes later, he was still staring down at the drawing, tears standing silent and unheeded in his eyes. Arwen offered him a handkerchief that he took but did not use, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. Instantly, she felt him ease and he drew a great breath, both refreshing and reassuring. After a time, the tears stopped and Aragorn dried his eyes as one in a dream, but still he looked at the drawing, unable and unwilling to put it down.

“Will he be healed?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

“He will be,” Arwen assured. “There is hope in this and your friends are wise to have sent this to you as it is. Look at the parchment: frayed and fractured along the edges and aged by time, it will never be restored to its once pristine beauty, but the scars and wounds do not lessen the quality of the artist’s strokes, which are unspoiled. Indeed, they enhance the drawing and make it that much richer. Frodo will find joy again.”

“You are right,” Aragorn said, looking at the drawing anew and finding hope in it. “If there is anyone capable of defeating his demons, it is Frodo.”

“Pain and hurt are not to be conquered,” Arwen said. “It is only through accepting them that we can let them go. He will learn to understand this again, as he learned once before when he lost his parents so unexpectedly. He was able to heal then, and he will do so again.”

“He will certainly not lack wise help and counsel,” Aragorn said. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, and at last placed the drawing on the desk. “This will be preserved and will be hung in the museum with the rest of the artifacts from the Quest.”

Aragorn waited for his wife’s acknowledgement of this statement but when he was greeted by only silence, he peered back to look at her then followed her gaze to the wheel of bread. “Tell me that is from some other package, sent from Ithilien or Dol Amroth perhaps,” she said.

Aragorn laughed heartily at that, then showed her the receipt and the tips for the many uses of stale bread. He then showed her the portraits and the letters. At dinner that night, they enjoyed roasted beef with cheese slices, a freshly baked loaf of round bread and a glass of the Gaffer’s home brew, and at ten o’clock, the twenty-second hour of this twenty-second day, they raised their glasses in toast to the Ring-bearers.

“To Frodo and Bilbo,” Aragorn said. “May they live happily to the end of their days.”

The End

GF 12/31/06

* - Much thanks to Llinos for the recipe for Round Bread.

4 cups of stoneground wholemeal flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 to 1 cup warm water
2 teaspoons dry yeast
1/2 teaspoon salt

Method:
Dissolve the sugar in the warm water
Add the yeast to the sugar water mixture.
Let it stand for 15 minutes.
Cook’s Note: When the yeast starts to ‘work’ with the sugar water, a brown froth appears on the surface of the liquid.
 
Mix flour, salt and the prepared yeast mixture together to make a dough.
Knead enthusiastically until the dough can be pulled away from the side of the bowl, or until it becomes elastic-like.
Add more water (a little at a time) or dust with flour as required to get the texture right.
Cook’s Note: Within limits, the more you knead the dough, the lighter the bread will be.
 
Put the dough into a large loaf tin.
Leave the dough in a warm place to prove (until it doubles in size). This can take around 1-2 hours depending on temperature.
Bake in a moderate oven for approximately 45 to 55 minutes.
Cook’s Note: This recipe makes excellent loaves for ‘same day’ use. It produces a coarse texture and a fairly hard crust and fills a hungry stomach fast.)